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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469198">Above Us, Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlanaCartwright/pseuds/AlanaCartwright'>AlanaCartwright</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Descendants (Disney Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Evie &amp; Jay &amp; Mal &amp; Carlos de Vil as Found Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Soft Mal (Disney), Soft carlos, VKs Being Family, VKs | Villain Kids (Disney), carlos deserves his freedom okay, give this boy a family, i adore carlos so much, i just want these kids to be loved, soft everyone tbh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:53:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlanaCartwright/pseuds/AlanaCartwright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Carlos was little, he dreamed of the stars.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evie &amp; Carlos de Vil, Evie &amp; Jay &amp; Mal &amp; Carlos de Vil, Jay &amp; Carlos De Vil, Mal &amp; Carlos de Vil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Above Us, Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have to say that no matter how much Found Family (TM) content exists on this website, it will literally never be enough for me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>back into the little system of his care.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>― </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Ted Kooser, </em>
  </b>
  <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1086528">
    <b>
      <em>Flying At Night: Poems 1965-1985</em>
    </b>
  </a>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Carlos was little, he dreamed of the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On nights that Mommy had confined him to the upstairs closet for some reason or other, he would look up, up, up into the ceiling, hoping that if he stared at the weathered brick hard enough, it would disappear, and he could look up and see the stars, spread out against the night sky. Evie was teaching him constellations from the astronomy textbook he’d stolen for her Christmas present. He was proud to admit that if he really concentrated, he could now identify Scorpius and Orion. His favorite was Aquila, the bird that carried Zeus’s thunderbolts whose name was Latin for ‘eagle,’ and when Evie told him about it, something ached in the pit of his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes he would climb up to the roof of Lady Tremaine’s makeshift bungalow with Jay, Evie, and Mal. Evie would design buildings in the cement with a piece of chalk she found in the old wool factory, and Jay and Mal would chip in every once in a while with the heated indoor pool they wanted right next to the library or the dueling hall that should have a gym right next door. Curled into Jay’s shoulder, Carlos would trace stars into the blanket Evie had made with one hand, the other heating up where it was tucked between Mal’s warm palms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When summer came around on the Isle, Mal would take Evie and Jay flying. Her dragon form was huge and purple and magnificent, the spitting image of Maleficent at her finest, and yet so not. Because where Maleficent’s eyes were callous and angry, Mal’s were fierce and unyielding, protective even in a different skin. Carlos was always scared that Mommy would see him, and no matter how many times the others reassured him, he couldn’t forget how dark and cold the upstairs closet was. So he refused, watched as the others rose higher and higher, until Mal’s beating wings were specks in the distance, her dusky scales in stark contrast against the light clouds, wishing against all odds that maybe, one day, he would be that free. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he got older, Carlos wondered if freedom was as wonderful as he had dreamt it to be. It wasn’t like he could take care of himself in any sense of the word. What would he even do with all those choices? All those options? No, it was probably better that Mother made all the hard decisions. Otherwise, they’d be stuck here all day, waiting for him to finally choose blue over red before inevitably regretting not picking the alternative. Yes, he’d be better off without this so-called privilege.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ignored the voice at the back of his head whispering about Aquila and the endless night sky.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The once-vibrant fabric is soft under his hands, its colors faded with the grime of the Isle. He runs his fingers over the seams of the red-and-white leather, and remembers the hours that Evie spent on this jacket, bent over on a stool working away at the stitches. Mal and Jay both own souvenirs of nights such as those. Birthdays and Christmases were full of jackets and gloves and bags. Those were the nights when all four of them used to escape to Mal’s loft, away from their parents and their expectations, back when each other’s support was all they had, because if there was one thing they knew about the Isle, it was that lone wolves didn’t last very long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you ready?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mal’s voice is soft from behind him, and she leaned into him when she sits down, all fierce purples and leather. Auradon is spread out beneath them, calm and quiet at this hour, and above them is the night sky, endless and bright and hopeful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he whispers, curling his fingers around hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If someone looked up right then, to the roof of the museum, they wouldn’t see two of those Isle rats, always running around causing trouble. They’d see kids, mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span>, huddled together as they had done countless times before, gazing up at the sky, only looking for hope. They’d see teenagers robbed of the chance of proper youth, begging the constellations to simply give back </span>
  <em>
    <span>a little bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> of their childhoods, before they become adults who can never recover what was rightfully theirs. This is good shiz</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let’s go.” Mal pushes herself up to standing and shakes out her shoulders. With a deep breath, she begins to grow. First her wings emerge from her back, slow and powerful, and as he watches, her form lengthens like a dark, slithering cloud. She grows and grows and grows, and her green eyes blaze through the darkness. She is the roll of thunder that bellies a crack of lightning, and Carlos has no doubt that he will always be in awe of Mal Bertha, the girl who taught him not to fear the silence of nightfall, because silence doesn’t equate to loneliness, and Carlos hasn’t been alone in a long, long time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mal stretches to her full height for a second, shifting and twisting into the new movement of her muscles. When she is satisfied with her control, she sits back on her haunches and leans down, her glowing eyes deep and patient, as if she’s saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ready when you are.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carlos bounces on the balls of his feet nervously, wrings out his wrists. The sky is a black canvas, and he isn’t sure if he’s ready to paint on it. But then, he’s managed to survive with all these new freedoms so far, and contrary to what he had thought, he hasn’t collapsed under the weight of the accompanying responsibility. What’s a little more? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sucks in a breath and releases it, the sound sharp in the air, then leans into Mal’s scales. Even as a dragon, she feels as warm as she always does, tender and present and undemanding. He wriggles his body up her side, and when he finally manages to climb onto her back, her wings gently nudge him into a comfortable position. His arms are wrapped around her flank, and he is tucked into the space right between her wings. She flaps the leathery appendages a little, just enough to make sure that he’s secure, before she pushes off with her hind legs, launching them into the night sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small, distant part of him recognizes the strength and solidity of Mal underneath him, but the rest of him is too busy gaping open-mouthed at his surroundings. Carlos doesn’t consider himself to be religious, but if there is a heaven, this endless canvas of darkness splashed with stars has to be part of it. Everything below seems so small and insignificant, all of Auradon’s prejudices and its people nothing but unrecognizable blots in the earth. The sky stretches around him, and as he runs his hands through the air and relishes in the rush of clouds through his fingers, he’s simultaneously bigger and smaller than he’s ever been before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets out a shriek of delight, then another, and another, until he’s screaming and laughing and crying and everything feels so monumental. He feels like an essential part of the universe, like an exploding supernova, glowing and twisting and surging with life and passion and hope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tugging in his stomach is familiar, and hundreds of snapshots in time pass before his eyes. Late practices on the tourney field with Jay, midday study sessions with Evie, motorcycle lessons with Mal. Nights spent curled into Evie’s shoulder, legs tucked under Jay and Mal’s head pillowed on his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is a piece of eternity, a star in the night sky, soon to be swallowed up into the boundless darkness, but for now, just now, he is love and light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mal lets out a rumble of pleasure, a gentle vibration underneath him, and he feels soft and loved. Important. Carlos thinks that this might be what freedom tastes like, loud and joyous and overwhelming. He thinks, also, that youth feels the same way. </span>
</p>
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